“And you told me to ‘calm down’—as if I’d imagined you taking the pictures?” Peyton sneered and hit the trash can button beneath each one. “Good thing I’m not naive.”
“I told you to calm down because I wasn’t going to post them anywhere public,” Madison said. “You and I might not be friends, but I don’t want to get Hunter fired.”
“So why take the pictures?” Peyton handed the phone back to Madison, feeling lighter now that the pictures were gone.
“Because you were drinking and flirting with our hot Aussie English teacher,” Larissa chimed in. “Why not take pictures?”
Madison looked like she was going to add something, but she didn’t have a chance.
“None of this matters, because the pictures are deleted,” Jackson said. “Now, Peyton, I believe you need to get up to your condo to get changed for dinner. You’re running late as it is.”
“Right,” Peyton said, although she knew as well as Jackson did that there were no dinner reservations that night. She stomped away from Madison and Larissa, not bothering to say bye, the sounds of their whispers and laughter coming from behind her. She would not give them the satisfaction of turning around and glaring at them.
As she made her way to the penthouse elevators, she reminded herself that despite what Jackson had done for her back there, nothing had changed between them. He wasn’t going to open up to her again like he had for those few days over the summer. By intervening and making sure the photos were deleted, he was doing his job. Carl and Teddy would have done the same for Savannah and Courtney. She shouldn’t get her hopes up.
She pressed the button for the elevator, and as always, Jackson appeared beside her. This elevator ride would surely be spent the same way as the rest of them since the kiss—either silent, with vague chitchat or with one-word responses from him when she attempted to have a real conversation. Not like she’d made any recent attempts. His barriers were impossible to break through, and eventually, she’d stopped trying. Being rejected over and over again was too painful.
The elevator was empty except for the two of them. She slid her key card into the slot, and pressed the button for the top floor.
“I could have handled those girls myself,” she said, bracing herself for what would surely be a one-word, emotionless response.
“Not without causing a scene that might have led to people taking more unwanted pictures of you,” he said, his jaw tense. “You need to be more careful.”
She crossed her arms and watched the floor numbers on the display climb. That was worse than a one-word response—clearly he thought she was an impulsive kid. It was opposite from the way Hunter had treated her at the bar—as if she were an adult worthy of real conversation.
“Who was that guy you were talking to?” Jackson’s voice broke through the silence. “The one your classmates took photos of you with?”
Her breath hitched at the realization that Jackson had asked her a personal question. And that seeing her with Hunter might have made him jealous. Could he still care about her?
“That was Hunter Sterling, from Australia.” She tilted her head toward Jackson, allowing her long hair to drape over her shoulder, and smiled. “Why are you asking?”
“Because he’s too old for you,” Jackson said, concern breaking through his normally impassive expression.
“He’s only a little older than you,” Peyton said playfully. “I would guess twenty-five or twenty-six. So he’s not too old for me. We actually had a rather fascinating conversation.”
“You want me to believe you walked up to this guy randomly and struck up a conversation?” Jackson asked. “I’ve been guarding you for months now, so I know that’s not your typical behavior.”
“And what’s my ‘typical behavior’?”
“You let guys come to you,” he said, his eyes so intense that she forgot to breathe. “Not the other way around.”
“Fine, you’re right,” she admitted. The truth was more interesting, anyway. “He’s my English teacher. I saw him at the bar, and it would have been rude of me to not say hi.”
“That guy was your teacher?” Jackson jerked his head to look at her straight on, his arm muscles flexing.
“Relax.” Peyton kept her tone light. Jackson was definitely jealous—maybe all wasn’t lost between them. “Like I said, it would have been rude of me not to say hi. I had a question about something we’re reading for class, and he helped me out while he waited for his date to arrive. It’s no big deal.”
Jackson focused on the crack in the elevator doors, and Peyton chipped at her black nail polish, worried that the connection between them was gone again. “I hope so,” he finally said, stepping aside so that she could leave the elevator first.
She walked into the hall, and he followed far behind, as if he’d never let his guard down to begin with. But that conversation was enough to give her hope. He still cared about her. They had a chance…. She just had to play her cards right.
And she was getting a distinct vibe not to push him anymore. At least, not right now.
Her phone buzzed with a text, and she took it from her bag, glad for a distraction. It was from someone she hadn’t spoken to in a while: Oliver Prescott. She’d thought she was interested in him during her first few days in Vegas, but once she’d realized what a jerk he was—he’d stupidly bet he could sleep with her and her sisters before the end of summer—she’d moved on. She’d been the only one to sleep with him, and while she hated that she’d been played, better her than Courtney or Savannah. She was the only one of them strong enough to handle it, mainly because she was the only one who wasn’t a virgin. To have your virginity taken by someone who was using you….eyton shuddered at how awful that would feel. Someone would have to do something terrible to deserve that. Even the guy she’d lost her virginity to—her ex-boyfriend, Vince—had thought he loved her at the time.
She opened up the message from Oliver and read it.
Have u thought about what u want me to do for that bet, or are u gonna keep stalling?
Peyton rolled her eyes and threw her phone back into her bag. He didn’t have to clarify what bet he was referring to. Over the summer, Oliver’s parents had set him up on a date with Courtney. They thought she would be a “good influence” on him. At that point, Peyton and Oliver had already hooked up, and she’d been pissed that he’d agreed to go on the date with Courtney instead of bringing her. She’d told him Courtney would never be interested in him, but he’d claimed otherwise, going as far as turning it into a bet. Knowing that Oliver wasn’t Courtney’s type, and that Courtney would never fall for his games, Peyton had agreed. She’d won, and the terms of their bet stated that because Oliver had lost, he had to do any one thing Peyton asked.
Luckily they hadn’t set a time limit, because she still hadn’t come up with the perfect task.
Once she was inside her condo, she took out her phone and replied to the text.
Not yet. But once I do, don’t worry—I’ll let you know.
“Now that we’re reaching the end of September—along with the end of our blood type unit—it’s time for you to discover your own blood types,” Madison’s advanced genetics teacher, Mrs. Amy, said from the front of the classroom.
“Lab partners?” Madison’s